


6 - Stockholm Syndrome

by Bittodeath



Series: SubObi Week 2020 [7]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mild Smut, Mind Manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome, SubObi Week, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath
Summary: Pre doesn't die by Maul's hand. Instead, he drives the Sith away and takes the throne of Mandalore for himself. He has, at his mercy, Satine Kryze, Korkie Kryze, and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Instead of simply doing away with them, he uses them against each other to keep them in line.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Pre Vizsla
Series: SubObi Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075316
Comments: 13
Kudos: 95
Collections: SubObi Weeks





	6 - Stockholm Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> _beskar'gam_ : Mandalorian armour.  
>  _paklalat_ : wit, gift of the tongue.  
>  _mandokarla_ : having the "right stuff", showing gut and spirit.  
>  _verde_ : soldiers.  
>  _Resol'nare_ : the Six Actions, the tenets of Mandalorian beliefs and culture.  
>  _ik'aad_ : baby, child under 3.  
>  _buir_ : parent.  
>  _riduur_ : spouse.  
>  _cin vhetin_ : the start of a new life as Mandalorian.  
>  _cyare_ : beloved.

Obi-Wan watches warily as Pre taps his finger against the armrest of the throne. The cold floor is unforgiving on his knees, but he doesn’t dare move. Not when Satine and Korkie have blades held to their throats.

“I would hate to simply kill you, Kenobi”, he finally says. “I’ve seen you fight, and before we pried you out of it, I’ve seen you in _beskar’gam_. As one of us. Sworn to me. There is much potential for you, and I do not like squandering my resources.”  
“How intelligent of you”, Obi-Wan sasses, and gets back-handed by one of the commandos for his trouble.  
“Let him talk”, Pre says with a shark-like smirk. “ _Paklalat_ is a gift amongst others, but you will refrain from speaking ill of me if you wish to keep that silver tongue of yours.”

Obi-Wan swallows back his words. He’d like to keep his tongue, thank you.

“I drove away the Sith Lord you wrongfully believed you had killed”, Pre adds. “A worthy adversary, but Sith don’t make for good allies. I cannot trust their word, their honour is lacking.”  
“Because yours isn’t?!” Satine gasps out, fury written on her face.

The blade nicks into her skin, blood staining her porcelain-white skin.

“Mind your words, Satine”, Pre growls. “I am still undecided on your fate, and I wouldn’t mind giving you away to my commandos.”

Satine blanches and Obi-Wan’s stomach twists, though it is Korkie who reacts vocally with a violent “no!” that makes Pre laugh.

“Your nephew has some fight in him”, he says. “Him, we might make _mandokarla_ yet. You…” He sneers. “You have no soul.”

He taps his fingers again, and Obi-Wan can almost feel his thoughts swirl, catching on lust one second, his eyes fixed on Satine, before moving on.

“Spare Satine and Korkie”, he finally blurts out. “Too much blood as already been spilled needlessly. Spare their lives.”  
“You do _not_ get to make demands of me”, Pre frowns, his voice sharp and eyes icy when he glares at him. “And think further before you ask for their lives. I could give that to you. Their lives. And I wouldn’t betray my word even if I gave her out as a public whore and sold him into slavery. Is that what you _want_ , Kenobi? Could you bear to have such a thing on your conscience?”

Obi-Wan’s breath hitches for a second. He couldn’t. Pre smiles then, and slowly stands from his throne, each step down the stairs thudding heavily, purposefully. His gloved fingers grip Obi-Wan’s jaw, wrenching his head back to make him look up.

“Here is what we’re gonna do”, he says sweetly. “They will be the insurance of your obedience, and you will be theirs. Their lives and well-beings are in your hands, and while I won’t kill you if I can spare it, you _will_ receive punishment if they misbehave. Is it clear for everyone?”

Satine glares at him, before looking back at Obi-Wan, her hurt plain in her eyes, but she nods.

“Yes”, she replies curtly.  
“Yes _what?”_

She grinds her teeth, but Pre changes his grip to pull at Obi-Wan’s hair.

“Yes, _Mand’alor_ ”, she replies bitterly.  
“Take them back to the cells”, Pre orders, pulling Obi-Wan up by his hair, making him bite back a cry.

*

Satine tried to escape once. She begged and pleaded when Obi-Wan was whipped in her stead, crying and telling him she was sorry. She didn’t try again. Obi-Wan… He looked for an opening, he always did. Pre made several traps for him that way, that he almost fell into. But he had learnt, on Kadavo. He had learnt the hard way. He never went farther than imagining his escape. He knew the price to pay would be steep, and he couldn’t be sure the three of them would manage to escape.

He bid his time. There was hardly any hope for a rescue before the war was ended: after all, he’d come here against the Council’s orders. There would be no rescue mission that wasn’t Anakin coming in hot with a hare-brained plan, if he didn’t get killed in the meantime.

Days went by, and weeks. He had no news from the war: Pre kept him carefully uninformed, and he was mostly cut-off from the Force. Not enough to really be painful, but from his bond with Anakin, he could only feel that his former Padawan was still alive. That was probably the hardest part.

He couldn’t complain about his accommodations: he had been moved from a cell to a small suite, its windows keeping him from escape with an electric field strong enough to at least stun a man. At first, it had just been a more decent place to spend his time in. A simple, single bed, a fresher. It was bare. Satine’s and Korkie’s had been the same: moved from cells to small suites, that had gotten more comfortable as Obi-Wan behaved.

Pre stopped by each day, usually bringing him his dinner. The _de facto Mand’alor_ would talk about issues unrelated to the war, commando training, the few books he found the time to read. He would ask about the Force, sometimes.

Days went by, and Obi-Wan started to answer him with more than bare words, especially when the books first appeared in a new bookshelf in his bedroom. He finally had things to say, and beside Pre, he only ever saw the Mandalorian who brought him his other meals and let the cleaning droids in, and that one never said a thing. He also saw him every week when the warrior gave his hair and beard a trim. Obi-Wan found it slightly hilarious that he was being kept from the public eye, and yet was expected to look his best instead of the cryptid creature the first few days of isolations had made him tempted to become.

Days went by, and Obi-Wan had intended to keep a tally on the wall – but then he slept through something like a whole day, and later caught something that left him delirious with fever, and made him lose all track of time. Days went by, and Obi-Wan had no idea of how long he’d been there. He received updates from Satine that he wasn’t allowed to answer, but that brought him a measure of comfort. She looked healthy and spoke about being allowed on walks outside, of having missed the sun. Korkie wrote letters, and he was perhaps the one who fared best, at least physically.

The way he spoke of being Mandalorian, however, and of training to become a commando, worried Obi-Wan. Soon he’d be too far gone, and there was nothing Obi-Wan could do to help.

*

There is a full mirror on the wall. Obi-Wan has been allowed out to the medic’s for a full check-up after a tooth-ache, and when he comes back, there is a mirror on the wall. He carefully steps up to it, brushing his fingers against his reflection.

“How long have I been here?” he asks when he sees Pre step into the mirror’s range, his voice breaking.  
“Does it really matter?” Pre asks, and he has been… softer, lately.

It makes Obi-Wan wonder if he dreamed his threats. Pre is a fun companion to have, witty and sharp, whip-smart, and unafraid. He sighs long-sufferingly at his _verde_ ’s antics and laughs when he tells Obi-Wan about the first days of training for the younger ones, and rants about history and how meaningful that obscure reference in that one painting is. Maybe he was only so harsh because Satine and him disrespected him as a leader. Because she is still Soulless, and he is Faithless.

It seems like it was forever ago that he was a Jedi. That he wore robes and tunics. He still has his sabre. He can even still wield it. He thought about escape but the walls of his world are lined with beskar. He thought of it as a golden cage once. And he knows still that’s what it is.

But the reflection in the mirror isn’t weary from stress, lack of food and lack of sleep anymore. Instead, it glows with health. He never looked so healthy, and it is probably the first time no medic commented on his weight or stress-levels. There is no war in Keldabe.

He blurts out a laugh, and slaps a hand over his mouth. There is no war in Keldabe. Is this also true for the whole of Mandalore? Has Pre achieved Satine’s dream of peace for their people?

“I thought you might enjoy a walk in the gardens”, Pre says, offering his hand. “They are beautiful at this time of the year.”

It is true, Obi-Wan realizes later, as he basks into the sunlight, lounging in the grass in one of the gardens. They haven’t seen anyone, which is weird, but the nature is delightful. Pre takes him on walks through the gardens, first once a week, then twice a week, and every two days. They don’t always walk. Sometimes, Obi-Wan lounges on the grass and basks into the faint feeling of the Force out of beskar walls, or listens while Pre reads to him from a book.

*

It doesn’t come as a surprise when Pre tells him Korkie swore to the _Resol’nare_. The boy had made it clear that was his goal in his later. Strangely enough, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise either, when Satine announces, in her holovid for him, that she is going to swear to it as well. It was a condition for her freedom. What is a surprise, however, is that it was also a condition for her marriage. It doesn’t hurt as much as it once would have, Obi-Wan discovers. She looks happy, and it is enough for him. It is another surprise, when she tells him in confidentiality, that she is with child.

He doesn’t quite know what to make of it. She is obviously happy to tell him, and he always knew she would be a good mother. There was a time he dreamed such a thing would be theirs.

“You seem troubled”, Pre tells him as they finish their dinner.  
“Satine… told me she’s expecting”, he says – Pre is in the confidence, after all, she once was a political prisoner.

Pre smiles, a glint in his eyes.

“A joyous occasion, and we should drink when she can’t”, he replies. “After all, children are the future.”  
“You don’t have any, though”, Obi-Wan remarks pointedly, and Pre chuckles.  
“No”, he says. “Being _Mand’alor_ is a full-time occupation. I wouldn’t have time for an _ik’aad_ while being a single parent, and I haven’t yet met a Foundling for whom I felt I could be a _buir_. It would be different if I had a _riduur_ , of course.”

Obi-Wan almost asks why he doesn’t have one of those either, but swallows the question back when he catches his eyes. The answer is obvious. He looks away.

“Having a Faithless as the _Mandalor’s riduur_ wouldn’t be a smart political move”, Obi-Wan replies, his voice tight.  
“You haven’t been Faithless in a long time, Obi-Wan”, Pre replies slowly. “You could swear, if you wanted to. Your armour was kept, and painted for your _Cin Vhetin_. We only await your word.”

Obi-Wan’s breath hitches, and Pre’s fingers gently glide against his own.

“You could swear to me now”, he says, “though we’d have to make it a public ceremony later. And once you’ve been given a soul, we could speak the vows. To be one when together, and when apart. To share everything. To raise warriors.”

Obi-Wan licks his lips nervously.

“I know the vows”, he still points out.  
“I could take you to bed”, Pre adds, his fingers now rubbing over his bared wrist. “Undress you completely and take you deep and thoroughly. I could make you writhe with pleasure all night, _cyare_. You only have to swear.”

Obi-Wan shivers, and pulls his hand away.

“I- I need some time to think”, he says thickly, his head swimming.  
“Of course”, Pre replies, standing up and pressing his lips to his fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

*

Obi-Wan dreams of a child with blond hair and blue eyes. A child like the sun, that looks so much like _Anakin_ it makes his chest hurt. He misses his Padawan, and his grand-Padawan. It is a small comfort to know they are alive.

He dreams of singing that child to sleep, and of armoured arms around him. He dreams of drinking from an endless cup of wine, drunk on its sweetness, he dreams of someone making love to him, kissing bared skin and sinking into him with reverence. He dreams of nights of pleasure. He dreams of white armour, of standing next to a throne.

He dreams of leading an army to defeat the Sith. He dreams of skewering the Sith Master on his blade. He dreams of _home_ , and home isn’t the Temple anymore. It is the cold, unyielding metal of an armour, and blond hair sliding through his fingers. It is a warm mouth plundering his own, and a voice that promises eternity, and plenty for the people. Peace, and prosperity.

He dreams of speaking words, and having all of this become true.

*

The Mandalorian caring for him brings in an armour-stand the next day, and carefully arranges a white _beskar’gam_ on it. Obi-Wan slides his fingers over the beskar. It seems to sing under his fingers.

When Pre comes in that evening, Obi-Wan is waiting. He takes a knee, and swears. To the _Resol’nare_. To him. He swears and Pre gently takes off the cuffs that took the Force from him, and he feels it. The _Manda_. It makes him gasp, and when Pre kisses him, there is nothing but the Manda and its _Mand’alor_. Pre makes good on his promise and undresses him, the food forgotten on the table, laving him with kisses and bites that make him shiver. Opens him on his tongue and makes him cry out in pleasure and- what came before holds no importance, now. The vision comes again and again, hammering at his mind as Pre drives him crazy with his fingers and his tongue, sharpening each time.

He will skewer the Sith. He will. He will. He _will_.

He pulls his lover deep within him and pants under his mouth, whines from the deep strokes of his cock. Calls his name, again and again and again and ag- He spills with a cry and a sob, feeling himself filled with strength. An instrument for the Manda.

He will skewer the Sith.

“It’s the Chancellor”, he finally says once his mind is clear again. “The Sith Master.”  
“I know”, Pre whispers against his skin. “You’ve been having vision of this since you arrived. Everything is ready for you, now. We leave for Coruscant tomorrow. Mandalore will rise from the ashes, for a new era of peace and prosperity. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

_There is no war_ , Pre whispers. _There is no war in Mandalore._


End file.
